


Flint and Steel

by PsychicPineapple



Series: Burn and Shiver [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Thorin, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3311828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicPineapple/pseuds/PsychicPineapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up to Burn and Shiver - sex. Just sex. And cuddles.<br/>_____</p><p>“What would you ask of me?” He murmured, kissing along Bilbo’s jaw. “Do you want my hand?” His lips grazed against Bilbo’s ear eliciting a pleasant shudder. “My mouth?”</p><p>“All of you,” Bilbo blurted desperately, fingers digging into Thorin’s skin. “Anything I can have.”</p><p>“Very well,” Thorin pulled back, eyes half lidded as they raked over Bilbo’s body. “I am yours to command.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flint and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, a smutty follow up to Burn and Shiver. It can be read as a one shot, but some little parts will be lacking context. 
> 
> My beta was the STUPENDOUS [EloquentSavage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EloquentSavage/pseuds/EloquentSavage), who I will rave about more in the end notes. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!

Thorin was aflame. He felt as though he were made of tinder, and Bilbo’s every touch was a spark that sent fire licking across his skin. He was kneeling between the Hobbit’s legs, stretching up to press eager kisses to his reddened lips. Bilbo was almost panting, letting out breathy moans of pleasure that spurred Thorin to kiss harder and touch further. Bilbo’s hands were roaming across his bare shoulders and chest, fingers playing over his collarbone and nails dragging through hair. "You have me at a disadvantage, Bilbo," he murmured, plucking at Bilbo’s shirt pointedly. Bilbo hummed agreeably, his hands never stilling on Thorin’s skin.

 

"By all means, let us level our footing," he replied, before dipping in for another kiss. Thorin needed no further encouragement. Setting his hands low on Bilbo’s thighs he began a long, firm stroke upwards, past his hips, until he was pushing away Bilbo’s white cotton shirt. Moaning at the sensation of warm, soft skin beneath his palms, Thorin took a moment to marvel at how smooth and pliant Bilbo was compared to his own hard, unforgiving body. Impatient, Bilbo reached up to tug his shirt over his head, casting it aside.

 

Thorin smoothed his hands up Bilbo’s ribs, pressing and kneading the soft flesh. He stretched out with his thumbs until they brushed across the peaks of Bilbo’s nipples. Bilbo responded immediately, leaning into the touch and groaning into Thorin’s mouth. Thorin smiled against his lips, "Ah! Have I found your weakness at last?"

 

Bilbo let out a laugh that morphed into a moan as Thorin’s coarse thumbs took another pass. "One of many," he breathed, sending Thorin a fiery look, "But I expect you’re more than capable of finding them all."

 

"I shall endeavour to rise to the challenge," Thorin returned with a smirk as he dipped his head to lick across a nipple.

 

"Ah!" Bilbo cried, his toes curling, hands clenching on Thorin’s shoulders. "You will be the end of me, Thorin Oakenshield, but oh! What an end!"

 

Thorin grinned against his skin, dropping open-mouthed kisses as he slowly moved downwards, over the swell of his stomach, savoring the graze of his teeth over the soft skin near the button of Bilbo’s trousers. Looking up to assess the effects of his efforts, Thorin was struck breathless by the sight; Bilbo’s eyes were closed in ecstasy and anticipation, his mouth open and panting, lips slick. His pale skin was set ablaze by a glorious red flush that started on his chest, spread up his soft, kissable throat and blossomed across his cheeks. Unable to restrain himself, Thorin surged to his feet and trapped Bilbo’s face in his trembling hands, kissing him until they were both gasping.

 

"Come on," Thorin urged, sliding one hand down to tug at Bilbo’s, "Through here." Bilbo eagerly sprang to his feet, but he had only taken one step to follow Thorin when he let out a hiss of pain.

 

"Blast it!" Bilbo grimaced, standing gingerly on one foot. "You shall have to help me to – ah!" Bilbo yelped as Thorin swept him up into his arms and marched them both towards the door. "I’m beginning to think you have a perverse predilection for lugging me about."

 

Thorin smiled down at him. "I have a perverse predilection for everything about you, Bilbo Baggins."

 

His words were teasing but his voice was so sincere it made Bilbo’s heart skip a beat. Reaching up, he mouthed eagerly along the bit of pale skin under Thorin’s ear, behind his jaw, enjoying the rough scratch of beard against his lips as they traveled toward his neck. His free hand moved curiously, rubbing at Thorin’s chest, teasing his nipples and tugging gently at his thick, dark hair. "I’m delighted to hear it."

 

The room Thorin carried him into was smaller than the main chamber, but just as impressive. Torches burned in elegantly carved sconces, illuminating sparse furnishings – the most important of which, at the moment, was a large bed set between two jutting stone shelves. Thorin dropped Bilbo onto it unceremoniously, eliciting a cry of protest. He smirked as he reached down to unfasten his boots.

 

"Any time," Bilbo sniped impatiently from where he sat on the bed, “as you like.”

 

“Patience, Master Baggins,” Thorin chastised gently, kicking his boots aside. Climbing into the bed, chasing Bilbo onto the thick furs with impatient kisses, he stopped when he was squarely atop the Hobbit. The first press of their bare chests sent him reeling, groaning as he revelled in the sensation. He buried his face in Bilbo’s neck, savouring the slide of his tongue against salty skin and the frantic hammering of his pulse.

 

Caressing Thorin’s back, Bilbo’s hands splayed across the dense muscle that flexed as Thorin raised himself up onto his elbows. “I know what you’re doing, you know,” he gave Bilbo a haughty grin. “I felt your eyes on me at the forge.” Bilbo reddened further, and Thorin dropped kisses on his flushed cheeks. “Did you like what you saw, my Hobbit?”

 

“Enough to stand on a blasted axe,” Bilbo muttered churlishly, and Thorin nipped at his ear in response. “Ah!” Bilbo cried, though it was more pleasure than pain. “You know _exactly_ what you do to me, Thorin. Traipsing about the city in naught but your boots and trousers, looking like you were handcrafted to unmake me. Not to belabour the point, but,” Bilbo gave a languid roll of his hips, his hardness pressing against Thorin’s stomach.

 

Thorin was reeling; the feel of Bilbo against him, his breathy confessions, turned his thoughts slow and sluggish. The press of Bilbo’s clothed cock against his bare stomach was enough to electrify him. “I do not _traipse about_ ,” he growled, easily rolling them until Bilbo was straddling his waist. “And what of you? Who gave you licence to lurk around every corner, making me want you?” He slid his hands down Bilbo’s back until they were palming his round behind. “Making me _need_ you.”

 

Bilbo’s pushed his hips back into Thorin’s hands, grinding down needfully. Thorin’s thumbs teased across the skin above Bilbo’s waistband, his fingers kneading and rubbing, until Bilbo all but growled with frustration. His hands flew to unbutton his trousers, rising up on his knees to push them down. Thorin was only too happy to help get them off before starting on his own laces, Bilbo tugging helpfully from the cuffs until they were both finally, blissfully naked.

 

Bilbo straddled Thorin’s muscular thighs, gazing down at him in wonder. ‘I had never – I could never have imagined-’ he cut himself off with a needful growl and threw himself down onto Thorin, hands longingly stroking and touching without restraint. Thorin grunted and growled, rasping encouragement, touching all of Bilbo until his senses were nearly overwhelmed.

 

Bilbo continued his explorations, working his way down until he was kneeling between Thorin’s thighs, kissing and licking at the soft skin of his navel. He dragged his teeth down the valley of one hip, delighting in the way Thorin’s body tensed and arched into the sensation. He teasingly dragged his fingers through the curls around the base of Thorin’s cock, framing it with his fingers but not touching. Thorin made a sound that Bilbo might have called a mewl, had it come from a lesser being. ‘I want to touch you,’ Bilbo sighed, knowing full well that his words would be a sweet breath of torture across Thorin’s untouched cock.

 

‘Then have pity and do it!’ Thorin was propped up on his elbows, looking down at Bilbo with a curious mixture of smouldering arousal and exasperation. For all Bilbo liked to tease, he was not wholly without compassion -nor in possession of any great amount of self-restraint. His gaze locked on Thorin’s, Bilbo slid his hands together until they were wrapped around his hardness. Thorin’s head dropped back with a groan and Bilbo moved his focus to the cock in his hands, hot and heavy and utterly perfect. He stroked it slowly until Thorin’s toes were curling in the bedclothes. Thorin tensed, his hands fisting and releasing to maintain his composure. Just when Bilbo was sure he was going to get another impatient comment he licked up the shaft, from root to tip, and began to tongue at the head.

 

Exhaling in a rush of air, as though he’d been punched, Thorin’s body curled as he buried his hands in Bilbo’s hair. Encouraged, Bilbo sank deeper onto him. Thorin could only watch, eyes dark with want, as his cock disappeared inch by inch into Bilbo’s delectable mouth. He let out a string of Khuzdul broken by gasping moans as Bilbo hollowed his cheeks and sucked, pulling back to lap eagerly with his tongue. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Thorin, who just smiled and smoothed a hand over his hair. “All good things, I promise. Just don’t – ah! Don’t stop.” Bilbo made it very clear that stopping was the furthest thing from his mind; he licked broad stripes over Thorin’s leaking slit as he fisted the base, stroking firmly.

 

Fire caught in the pit of his belly, tendrils of flame lashing out as Thorin edged closer to his inevitable release. Bilbo doubled his efforts, sensing Thorin’s urgency. He moaned around Thorin’s cock, one hand palming his balls, until Thorin’s hands tightened in his hair. “Bilbo,” he groaned in warning, “I’m almost -” Suddenly Bilbo’s hands shifted down a fraction and pressed firmly as he lifted his mouth from his cock, stroking the spit-slick dick with fervour. Thorin let out a hoarse noise, his eyes squeezing shut so tightly that he saw dancing spots of light in the darkness as his orgasm swept over him like a blast of furnace-heat. He jerked his hips, come striping across his stomach as Bilbo slowed his pace to long, slow strokes.

 

Thorin’s eyelids felt like lead as he forced them to open, blinking blearily down at his lover. “You have killed me,” he croaked, “I am dead.”

 

“You had better not be,” Bilbo remarked mildly, grinding his erection into Thorin’s thigh. “You’ve got work to do.”

 

“A moment,” Thorin begged, scrubbing a hand across his face, “while I remember how to work my limbs.” Bilbo chuckled, draping himself against Thorin’s side to kiss him gently, scratching his fingers through Thorin’s beard lovingly as he hummed in appreciation. Thorin turned into him, hooking a leg over his calf and pulling him close. Before long their soft, languid kisses became frantic and purposeful once more. Thorin ran his hand in one long stroke from the top of Bilbo’s spine to the soft swell of his buttocks. “What would you ask of me?” He murmured, kissing along Bilbo’s jaw. “Do you want my hand?” His lips grazed against Bilbo’s ear eliciting a pleasant shudder. “My mouth?”

 

“All of you,” Bilbo blurted desperately, fingers digging into Thorin’s skin. “Anything I can have.”

 

“Very well,” Thorin pulled back, eyes half lidded as they raked over Bilbo’s body. “I am yours to command.”

 

The rush of power and arousal was heady enough to separate Bilbo from his voice. He blinked slowly, considering the wealth of possibilities before him. He stared shamelessly at the beautiful, naked Dwarf, letting his eyes drink their fill. Thorin’s massive, unyielding arms held him easily, and Bilbo thought of the effortless way Thorin had carried him from the forges. And oh, his chest. Broad and toned, with dark pink nipples that stood in stark relief against the black thatch of hair. Thorin watched Bilbo assess him curiously, his expression both heated and fondly amused.

 

Finally Bilbo resolved the battle raging in his mind and exhaled shakily. “Thorin,” his voice reverent, Bilbo reached out to trail trembling fingers down his side until they curled around his hip with surprising strength. “Turn over.”

 

Thorin couldn’t obey quickly enough. Bilbo shuffled back on his knees to give him room to roll onto his stomach. The mess on his stomach smeared into the bedclothes, but Thorin couldn’t have cared less. All he could think about was Bilbo’s eyes roving across his body, electric and warm, like a physical caress.

 

Completely enraptured by the sight, Bilbo took the opportunity to continue the study of Thorin’s impressive form he’d begun down in the forges. His shoulders, back and waist were well-mapped territory, but everything lower was a tantalizing discovery. His buttocks were firm but round, dusted in hair, and so soft Bilbo longed to sink his teeth into the swell of flesh that called to him so ardently. He reached out, giving no warning as he palmed at Thorin’s cheeks, hands stilling at the soft hitch in Thorin’s throat. “Is this all right?” He asked gently, his fingers spreading slowly as he waited for permission to continue. Thorin groaned, arching back into his hands and spreading his legs ever so slightly wider.

 

Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek and dug his fingers into Thorin’s flesh. “Heavens, Thorin, I – I need -”

 

“I need you as well,” Thorin interrupted, and Bilbo huffed out a strained laugh.

 

“No – I mean _yes_ – but no I need something to -” Bilbo let one thumb slide down the dip of Thorin’s cheek and gently brush across his hole. The effect was immediate; Thorin gave a hoarse cry and mindlessly shoved his hips back against Bilbo’s hand. Panting, he waved a hand towards the shelf to the left of the bed.

 

“There should be a – a jar,” his voice was delightfully wrecked. Bilbo nearly tangled himself in the furs in his haste to reach his goal. There was indeed a jar, and when he pried off the lid he found it filled with a thick, white substance. It looked like a paste but melted, slick between Bilbo’s curious fingers. He shuffled back over to Thorin, smearing his cock with the oil as he went.

 

Thorin had not been idle; he had slipped a cushion under his hips, canting them at a better angle for Bilbo’s access. Thorin wanted this – wanted _him_ , Bilbo realised, invaded by a sudden and intense swell of affection. He draped himself over Thorin’s back, pressing a tender kiss to his bearded cheek. “How on earth did I get so lucky?” He wondered aloud. Thorin’s hand reached out to intertwine their fingers, turning his face to press their lips together properly. Bilbo sighed, pressing his forehead against Thorin’s for a long moment before pulling away to hungrily caress Thorin’s back.

 

Soon he was gently pressing an oil-slicked finger against Thorin’s entrance. Thorin opened for him easily, beautifully, and Bilbo felt a white-hot stab of lust. “You’re no stranger to this, I see,” he noted slyly, daring to press forward with a second finger.

 

“You were expecting a blushing virgin?” Thorin challenged over his shoulder.

“You are nothing I ever expected, Thorin.” Bilbo breathed in wonder as he scissored his fingers in Thorin’s tight heat, entranced.  


Thorin pushed back impatiently. “I’m not made of glass,” he growled, frustrated. “Take me, if you’re going to.”

 

“Always so demanding,” Bilbo mused, adding more oil with a third finger. He saw Thorin’s hands fist in the furs, his hole clenching around Bilbo’s fingers with a delicious squeeze. “Always so determined to rush through life’s simple pleasures.” He pushed his fingers in deeper, crooking them in a gentle rubbing motion that turned Thorin to butter. He gave a long, drawn-out whimper, half a sob, and pushed back so hard that he almost overbalanced Bilbo completely. “You see?” Bilbo smirked, steadying himself with a hand on Thorin’s thigh. “You’d do well to think more like a Hobbit, from time to time.”

 

“Well then,” Thorin rumbled, “the sooner I get some Hobbit in me the better.” Bilbo sniggered at the double entendre, and took a moment to think that he’d never laughed so much with a bed-mate before. In Thorin he had a lover, certainly, but he also had a friend. Quite suddenly, Bilbo found he could not wait another second to be inside Thorin. As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, Thorin raised his hips, spreading his knees and bracing himself.  
  
Bilbo coated his cock in more oil before shuffling forward on his knees and pressing his leaking head against Thorin’s hole. No more teasing, no more restraint; he pushed into the intoxicating heat with a slow, steady press until he was fully sheathed. ‘Oh, my – my goodness,’ he choked, bowing his head. Thorin’s breaths were rasping pants, his body taut as bowstring under Bilbo’s hands. Bilbo was dizzy with the sensation and, absurdly, he noticed the black smear of soot across Thorin’s hip that caught his eye in the forges. He recalled wanting to wipe it away, imagining what sensations it would yield. Slowly, he slid his fingers through the sweat collected in the dip of his lower back, smudging the dark soot to a grey streak. Thorin sighed, and Bilbo’s resistance was shattered.

 

Clutching at Thorin’s shoulder, Bilbo buried himself deep. His other hand gripped Thorin’s hip, fingers digging in as he began thrusting in earnest. The tight but yielding wonder of Thorin around him was inspiring and altogether maddening. With every driving push the wet slap of their skin added another layer of sensation, the sound sending him to new and dizzying heights of ecstasy. Thorin muttered quietly, his voice muffled by the furs underneath him. Bilbo reached out to grip his hair, tugging his head back. “Let me hear you,” he begged.

 

“Bilbo!” Thorin keened, “Mahal, Bilbo – so good. So – ah!” Bilbo adjusted himself higher, pressing deeper, anything to hear Thorin make that sound again. Unable to look away from Thorin’s back, from the bunch and roll of his muscles as they moved beneath the skin, Bilbo bit his lip to hold back his own incoherent words. Suddenly the great swell of his impending orgasm shuddered through him, beginning in his navel. Reaching out with both hands, he grasped Thorin’s shoulders and began frantically ploughing into him, their voices rising together in wordless cries of pleasure.

 There was a moment of perfect clarity for Bilbo – the sound of skin slapping on skin, the feel of Thorin under his hands and around his cock, the furs beneath his knees – and then he fell, shuddering, into the abyss of his release. “Thorin!” The name was ripped from his throat, “Thorin, oh! Thorin,” he trailed off into an indistinct mumble as his orgasm slowly receded. He gave a few short, shaky thrusts, hissing at pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, then collapsed recklessly onto Thorin’s sweaty back.

 

“By Durin’s beard,” Bilbo breathed, after a time. “That was wonderful.” Thorin trembled beneath him, his chest rumbling with laughter. Bilbo smiled fondly even as he withdrew his softening cock from Thorin’s body. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Thorin smiled, rolling onto his side and reaching out to pull Bilbo into his arms. “Only, that was a very Dwarven thing to say.” He said it kindly, pressing a kiss into Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo hummed in contentment, tucking his head under Thorin’s chin and curling into his larger body.

 

“Yes, well, don’t go getting any ideas that I’ll be taking up Dwarven habits,” Bilbo warned. “You still won’t catch me wearing boots.”

 

“My beloved,” Thorin smiled sleepily, “I wouldn’t hear of it. If you had been wearing boots today we might both of us be going alone to our beds tonight. I’ve half a mind to throw away my own.” He wriggled his bare toes, and Bilbo gave a drowsy snort.

 

“I may make a Hobbit of you, yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoyed this at all, it's due in large part to my beta [EloquentSavage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EloquentSavage/pseuds/EloquentSavage). My first draft read like a laundry list of actions, and she basically read my mind and gave me the words to make it the flowing, sensual piece I was aiming for. <3
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments as they absolutely make my day, and come say hi on Tumblr at scottmotherfuckinmccall.tumblr.com


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